


Kind Hearted Instincts

by Sombraline



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captive Prince Week 2017, Disguise, First Meetings, Fluff, Freedom, Gen, Loyalty, M/M, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombraline/pseuds/Sombraline
Summary: Laurent locked the door for the night, and he sat on the stinky grey couch he had found in the streets, and he sighed.New life, he thought. Gross.





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry for the Captive Prince Week, with today's theme -"Freedom". I hope you enjoy it!

Laurent locked the door for the night, and he sat on the stinky grey couch he had found in the streets, and he sighed.

New life, he thought. Gross.

Moving had been a lot harder than expected. Everything was a lot heavier than he thought, when he had to carry it through three stories of stairs. The building was old, with tiny hallways that made it very hard to get his furnitures through. For a moment, he had wondered if he shouldn't have abandonned that behind as well. Six hours on the road with a mover who swore a lot and ate pickles while driving had left him tired even before he had started pulling. Sweating and shaking under the weight of his desk, in a gross building in an Akielon campus that reeked of weed and spicy food, he had felt a lot like giving up.

But here he was, now, his every possession stacked together in the tiny studio with a window full of dead insects and a stained carpet floor. The paint on the wall was an ugly pink. The previous inhabitants of the flat had taken the lightbulbs with them, so as night fell, he was in darkness. It felt wrong and oppressive. It felt like the lowest point he had ever been at.

But Laurent ran a hand over his eyes and forced himself to straighten up.

This was freedom.

Ugly, humiliating freedom, in a place he had never wanted to see.

But freedom, nevertheless.

His uncle would never find him here. By this time of the day, his uncle was coming back home, expecting to find his nephew just where he had left him. He would call him as he walked into his dead brother's house like it was his, asking where he was, asking if supper was ready. If Laurent was still there, he would have ordered him to smile, asking whatever was wrong and why he looked so displeased, a spoiled boy like him, living in this house because he allowed it.

Well, now Laurent didn't need anyone's permission. Now Laurent owned his place. No one could steal it from him. Not his father's death, not his brother's in the same accident, on the same day, when his will had written Auguste as sole heir, or his brother until Laurent was old enough. No. It was nothing, but he had paid for this mediocre room all by himself.

It felt like failure, but he smiled with bitter joy. It was victory. It was a first step of being a man proud enough to stand up to Uncle. It was a first step to sending him to jail for the rest of his life and taking back what was rightfully his.

Eventually, he thought, as exhaustion washed over him. Eventually, he would have a steady job, and make more money than he had before, and he would pay for a lawyer...

But for now, he had escaped. He was free, he was safe, he was alone. Nobody would come disturb him here.

_Knock knock knock_

He startled, jumping to his feet with his heart in his throat. He stayed frozen in place for a few seconds, ice in his veins. No. He couldn't be here. He couldn't...

He walked to the door, unsteady on his feet, and held his breath. What could he do, if it was him? Call the police? He hadn't done that in all these years. He didn't even know were his phone was now. But he couldn't let himself be found. He couldn't go back, no, _no_...

“You think they're there?” Said a voice muffled by the door.

“Maybe they left,” said another voice. “You could just leave that in front of the door? It could save you the embarrassment if they don't speak Akielon."

It was not Uncle. Laurent opened the door, and looked at two men. Young men. Students, he realised, when his heart stopped beating so loud it was impossible to think. They looked Akielon. One held a plastic box in his hands. The other was leaning with a hand against the wall.

He wondered how he must have looked, because the one holding the box seemed suddenly unsure.

“Hi,” Laurent said cautiously.

“Hi,” said the guy with the box. He was a full head taller than Laurent, but he had an innocent face, especially when he started smiling. It was a bright confident smile that digged a dimple in his cheek. “You moved in today, right? I'm Damen. I live on the second floor.”

“Hi,” Laurent said again. His voice came out a bit colder than expected, mostly out of surprise. He tried to think of the correct answer. He didn't feel like giving his name. “Yes. I did.”

“This is Nikandros,” said Damen. “He's my roommate.”

“Hi.”

Nikandros gave a nod. He seemed more aware of the awkwardness of the moment than Damen. Laurent looked up to him as if to ask how to make this end.

“Damen cooked too much lasagna today,” Nikandros said helpfully. “His brother was supposed to come by but he didn't.”

“So I brought you some,” Damen said. “I thought it could make a welcome present. So -here.”

He held the box out for Laurent to take.

Laurent hesitated. He didn't want to make... friends. Loud Akielons students were not on his top list of frequentations anyway. But it seemed very impolite, to say no. What if he took it as an insult? What if Laurent was polite instead and the boy took it as an invitation to come back? He opened his mouth to say he was fine, but when he met the brown, waiting eyes of Damen, he couldn't.

“Thanks,” he found himself saying. It came out a bit tense. When he reached out to get the box, he was a bit startled by finding his hand close to the other man's. The difference in their skin color was startling and lovely. He could not remember the last time he had met somebody entirely new, somebody that hadn't known Auguste or Uncle first.

“Pleasure,” Damen replied. “I live at 207, if you want to bring me back the box. But, uh, feel free to keep it.”

“Thanks,” repeated Laurent. He felt stupid for that, but Damen smiled.

“See ya around. Have a nice evening.”

He turned and went to leave, with Nikandros following. Laurent stayed motionless, with the lasagna in hand. He felt his heart racing again, but differently. This was new. So new. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted to do.

“Damen,” he called out, just as the two Akielons were going to go down the stairs. They stopped. “I'm -Laurent.”

Damen paused. He looked surprised, though he couldn't have been more than Laurent himself was. Then he smiled again.

“Nice to meet you,” said Damen.


	2. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent. A strange and lovely name. It was fitting, Damen thought as he was climbing down the stairs, hands empty and head full of questions.
> 
> For Day 5 -"Courting".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, I couldn't leave it at that. I think there will be a third and last chapter soon. I hope you enjoy it!

Damen considered himself a rather optimistic man. Not naïve, not anymore, but encline to seeing the world in a positive light. Unless given proof of the contrary, he generally assumed people to be good and worthy of kindness.  


It was something he had inherited from his mother. She used to teach him that that old woman at the corner of the street was not an evil witch, even if she had a chihuahua who behaved like a hellhound and refused to give back the balls that were lost in her garden. She explained she was probably just somebody who was alone, and who was maybe just shy or something.

Every year, they would put a box of homemade chocolates in her mailbox for Christmas, even though there was never a word of thanks. Damen had grown attached to the tradition, feeling a little like a secret ninja of kindness. You were not in control, his mother used to say, of the way other people saw the world; but you were in control of the way you appeared to the world.

As an adult, he still lived on to those principles. Even after everything, even after his parents divorced and his mother died; and his girlfriend left him to be with his brother, and Kastor came back a few months later to ask for money; even then, Damen remembered that the one thing he could control was what sort of person he wanted to be to the world, still. And he wanted to be the sort that gave everyone their chance.

That night, he had made too much lasagna. He had not really expected for Kastor to show up to their weekly brotherly meal, but he had still prepared enough, just in case. He and Nikandros sat down to eat it while playing a racing game, and that was when he learned that a foreigner had moved in the building today while he was in class.

“He looked Veretian,” Nikandros said. “About our age, built like a twig. Not sure if he's a student, though. He'd be too late for the winter session.”

“He was all alone?” Damen asked.

“Think so. Not sure. You want to play welcoming committee?”

He didn't sound entirely sarcastic, more resignated. Damen liked that Nik knew him that well. He smiled and grabbed a Tupperware to put a generous serving of lasagna in it. Then, they climbed up the stairs to the appartment that had been up for rent until last week, and that wasn't anymore, and he knocked and waited.

He didn't know what to expect. They lived in a rather crappy building, whose only quality was to be cheap. Most of their neighbors were students going to the same college as them, but there was also the occasional single parent with their kids, or immigrants from Patras waiting to find a job to rent a better place. The Veretians, with the supposedly superior education system of their country, rarely ever ventured into this sort of place.

Yet Laurent was there.

Laurent. A strange and lovely name. It was fitting, Damen thought as he was climbing down the stairs, hands empty and head full of questions.

“I saw that,” Nikandros said with a tone of warning.

“Saw what?” He asked, turning to him in confusion.

“Saw you looking at him. You left him one of our _three_ Tupperwares and said he didn't have to give it back, Damen. Don't you go falling into anyone's arms just because they're blond and cute.”

“I have no ideas what you are talking about. I was just being _nice_.”

“Yes. Right.”

That had been their first meeting, and he had wondered if it would be the end of it, seeing how unsure Laurent had seemed. He spent the next week hoping to meet him in the staircase when he went to school, or down at the mailbox, or maybe at the convenience store, and wondering if he had enjoyed the lasagna and what he was doing in a place like this. He was giving up on the idea of ever meeting him or having any answers when a knock came at the door, the next monday evening.

Laurent's face was tense and a bit cold when he opened the door, like he was not happy to be there. Their eyes met. Damen had never seen eyes this blue. 

“Hi,” he said, abruptly.

“Hi,” Damen replied. 

“I brought this back.”

He handed the clean Tupperware to Damen, staying at a somewhat absurd distance. Damen took it, thinking there was something unexplainably lovely about that accent working around the Akielon language.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” said Laurent. “Thanks. I'm -I'm going to go back up.”

And he did. They had spent maybe twelve seconds together on the doorstep. Damen watched him leave without having the time to wonder if that was creepy. Laurent was wearing fitted jeans and a buttoned shirt. He didn't look real.

Slowly, he went back inside and put the box back in place in the small kitchenette. As he sat back down at his laptop, all concentration for his essay lost, he wondered if he had waited the whole week for this, and it was the last he would see of Laurent.

It wasn't.

“Did you talk to that Veretian recently?” Nikandros asked him the next day when he came back home from the swimming pool.

“What? Uh -he came by yesterday to give me back the box. Why? Did you see him?”

Nikandros squinted at him. Damen's voice sounded a bit too hopeful. He gestured for his friend to stop judging and to get over it.

“He came knocking about an hour ago,” Nikandros said. “He asked if you were there. He left you this.”

He pointed at the table. Damen's heart jumped in his chest as he walked closer to find a metal box with a design of colored lily flowers. Inside, thick little cookies that smelled like coconut and were dipped in white powder. They were clearly homemade, and they were clearly fancy.

“Oh,” he said. “Did -did he say anything else?”

“Nope.” 

There was no note or any signature, either. Damen tasted a cookie. It tasted like heaven on Earth.

So he went back up two days later to bring Laurent his box back, and he brought a fancy cheese to go with it. He had walked around the grocery store for a while, trying to think of something. As he waited for the door to open, he wondered if it was too much. Or too little? Maybe he should have made something himself.

“Hi,” said Laurent. He looked a little less tense. “Thanks,” he added, finding the box in Damen's hand.

“Thanks,” Damen repeated with a smile, that he hoped didn't look too idiot. “They were delicious. You made them yourself?”

“Yes. I'm... Glad you liked them.”

“I wouldn't mind having the recipe. They were really great.”

“I can write it down for you. If you want.”

“That would be great. I, uh. I brought you this.”

Laurent looked a little confused when he took the block of cheese. Then he looked up again. It was the second time Damen really saw his eyes. They looked tired, he thought, and a little cautious, and so pretty.

“Sorry, it's a bit ridiculous. I -I just, uh, I only made soup in the last few days. I was afraid you would find it weird if I brought you a bowl.”

“Yes,” Laurent replied. There was a tentative smile on his face.

“So... There.” He was probably supposed to leave now. He couldn't think of a single thing to add that wouldn't be weird.

“I have to go shopping,” Laurent said. He seemed almost startled by his own words, but quickly shook himself up. When he started talking again, his voice sounded clearer and a bit more distant. “I don't have internet here yet. I don't know where the shops are. Would you perhaps -help me? If there is nothing more important you should be doing.”

There were so many mixed conclusions to take from this. The tension, the awkwardness, the refined language. Damen had so many questions about this boy. Mostly, he just wanted to spend longer with him and hope he would see that smile some more. Did it get less tentative?

He said yes, of course.

The shopping was an adventure in discovery. Laurent explained he needed a shower curtain because he had not realised there was so little hot water here that he couldn't take a bath, and he needed a few kitchen utensils because he hadn't thought of taking any when he had left home, and he needed a place to print something. Damen tried to probe a little. Laurent said he had left Vere on a sudden choice. There was no other hint as to where he came from or what he was doing here. 

Damen didn't insist. He showed him the pharmacy with a self-service printer and looked at the cheap candies while Laurent got to it. He felt very conscious of being in public with a boy like him, pretty and strange in this place. Laurent printed a dozen pages. Damen helped him figuring out the payment. He seemed embarrassed to be confused about the Akielon coins. Damen caught sight of the bottom of the page while he waited. It looked like a list. It was in Akielon.

 

  * _Fluent in Veretian, Akielon, Patran;_
  * _Experience as a tutor in junior ballet classes;_



 

He looked away quickly, realising this was Laurent's resume. It was private, not something he should stare at without permission (meanwhile, his mind only seemed to be able to scream the word _Ballet_ again and again).

They were walking on the pavement toward the one-dollar shop and he managed to find it in him to ask:

“So, you're getting installed alright? I can't guess it's easy to change country.”

“I'll manage,” Laurent said with a definite tone. There were a few instants of silence. He lowered his eyes. Then he said: “I guess it is a big change. More so than I expected.”

“Do you... Regret leaving?”

“No,” came the immediate reply. “No, it's not what I meant. I'm happy to be here, it's just... I need to... Get used to all that's different. Settle down, find a job of some kind, probably. I will be fine.”

“I'll be happy to help, if you need anything,” Damen said after a few instants.

“You're very kind with me.”

Damen hadn't imagined the question that seemed to be hiding in the statement. Laurent was looking at him sideway. His eyes were still guarded. Careful. Was this a test of some kind? Or did he really feel suspicious that Damen was being welcoming? It sounded absurd. He wasn't hoping to get anything from this. Well, not like that. Did that count as a second motive?

“You're kind with me too,” he remarked. “I don't know. You seem... Clever and kind, and maybe like you're struggling a little. So I'm just happy to help, and -get to know you along the way. Hum, here we are.”

Laurent didn't reply as they stepped into the dollar store. The bright light inside was a contrast from the falling night out. They started walking through the alleys. Laurent picked up a small plastic trashcan.

“I did not get outside much, in Vere, these last few years,” he said finally after they had been motionless for a few minutes, looking at brightly colored bottles of shampoo. “I'm sorry if I seem... Unadequate, at times. I'm afraid I don't know very well how to act as a friend.”

It sounded like trust and confidence and it left Damen startled for a moment. Once more, he had his mind filled with questions. He was pretty sure by now that there was a reason, some sort of dark mystery, that made Laurent tense about telling him why he had left Vere. He had a bad feeling about his statement of him not getting outside much.

But it was also a proof that Laurent _wanted_ to be here with him. That he enjoyed his presence. 

“You're being very adequate”, he replied softly, holding back his questions for now in favor of a smile.

Laurent's eyes flashed up to him again. Did they ever stop looking so busy with thoughts, like he was analysing everything? But then he gave Damen a smile in return. Still a small one. Still careful.

“Come on, kitchen's wares are this way,” Damen said to break the silence. “Can I ask how you made those cookies without anyting to stir the dough?”

So it became a rhythm. They knocked at each other's doors. They exchanged foods, and smiles. Eventually, they started inviting each other in and, around the food they cooked, talked of other things, like Damen's school, and how different primary school was in Vere and in Akielos, and Damen's love for sports, and Laurent one day announced he had found a job at a restaurant, and he looked very openly proud, and then they started speaking of his job as well. 

He learned things about Laurent, a little at the time. That he had done ballet and fencing until he was fourteen, that he wished he was taller, that he prefered sweet food over real meals. He came to realise everything about him was very deliberate, and the way he spoke was no exception. He was looking tense, when they were cooking, together, and he mentioned for the first time a man named Auguste, saying he had been as sportive as Damen.

"Is he your friend?" Damen asked carefully. 

"He was my brother," Laurent replied.

He looked tense. So Damen didn't insist. He asked instead what sports Auguste practiced. 

Damen spoke of Jokaste leaving him to be with Kastor, one day, when he was tired because his brother had come to crash on the couch and had the nerve to complain that Nikandros wouldn't give him his bed. Laurent listened intently, and then his pale little hand came to rest open near Damen's. Damen took it. They met each other's eyes, and were silent for a little while.

"Your brother does not deserve you."

Another day, Laurent spoke of work, and he looked offended and tired, because a bunch of teenaged boys had made a lot of noise, and he had told them to be quiet, and they had made fun of his accent and called him names. Damen lifted one big protective arm on the back of the couch, inviting him in. Laurent rested his head in the crook of his neck for a longer while. 

He still wanted to find the little idiots and kick their ass.

Another day, they went to see a concert together, because a friend of Nikandros was in the band. It rained, and the wind blew, and the music wasn't that great, but they went. It was cold. They went to a Starbucks to buy hot chocolate. The café was full, so they only had one half table and one chair. 

“We can share,” Laurent said, and they did, and they shared a smile because they both loved doing absurd little things like this. They drank their chocolate and they were quiet. Damen couldn't stop looking. Laurent looked so humble and... soft.  


“Can I kiss you?” Damen asked quietly, so only Laurent could hear him in the crowded room.

Laurent looked up at him. Beautiful blue eyes. There were always so many things in them that Damen didn't quite understand. He didn't look like he hesitated exactly. He looked more like he was asking himself that. Not if he wanted to be kissed, but if he could.  


"You can say no," he hurried to add.

"Yes," Laurent said, and pulled up a little, and kissed him.

Against his warm lips, Damen decided he didn't have to understand him completely yet. Until Laurent was ready to give him answers, then he was just happy loving him.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


	3. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent had moved in Akielos one full year ago now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of day eight -"Loyalty"! This is the end of this tiny story, although there will be a small epilogue in chapter 4 =3
> 
> Thanks to all those who commented and left kudos. It really made this week exciting and challenging!

Laurent had moved in Akielos one full year ago now.

He came to the realisation as he was sitting in the bus, commuting from work to home with a grocery bag on his knees. It was late at night and he thought about how much money he would be able to save this month after the rent was due, and it was due next week, and he told himself that the winter really had gone by quickly this year and it clicked then that he had completed one year in Akielos nearly a month ago without noticing.

He had lived here for a year already and it felt like it had gone by so very fast; yet on the other hand, so many things had changed it felt like it was impossible. He had his own place now. He had a bank account. He had a private phone number and a steady job that sucked but that _paid_. He had his own bed and his door locked at night and nobody came in without his permission. 

He had a _boyfriend_.

The notion itself was ridiculous and he had spent so many nights awake telling himself it was utter nonsense and that he should push Damianos away before he became so close. The problem was that Damen had been close from the start, even before they knew each other's full names, and he didn't _want_ him to go away.

In the end, it all came down to this. He couldn't accept the idea that _he_ had a boyfriend. But he was so desperate and happy to have _Damen_.

Damen was... Big and loud and naïve and everything that should have left him completely indifferent. He was an athlete and a popular boy and he drank alcohol and went at parties and Laurent should never have liked him. But Damen was soft and kind and he made him feel so good next to him.

It was like they had known each other their entire life, except they knew nothing about one another, and it was a beautiful trip to discover it all.

The bus stopped at an intersection and Laurent looked at the people crossing the street, an old man with an umbrella with a pointed little beard that made him look away. In the bus, there were two ladies chatting in the back and otherwise silence.

Damen should have been obnoxious and annoying and unnerving, from day one, when he had brought that box of homemade food like an intruding neighbor. But there was no invading on his part. He never overstayed. Laurent didn't have to give hints. He always... Asked, first. 

_ Can I kiss you? _

And maybe it was because he asked, maybe not, but Laurent allowed it. Laurent _liked it_.

He would have laughed if he had been told this one year ago. He would have laughed at the idea of himself being so foolish as to run away from one prison to throw himself in another one. He didn't want to be caged by someone who was nice and who would trap him.

Yet there was no cage in Damen's arms. Just... Warmth. His big warm chest. With muscles. And his little smile. And saying Laurent had the softest hair. And admitting to his old girlfriend having the same blond hair, looking a little sad, but never asking Laurent to share the same sort of past pains. Smiling again when Laurent said he was sorry Jokaste had left. Saying it was nothing. That he hoped she was happy. Asking if he wanted to watch _The Avengers_ with him, offering to make some popcorn. Laughing when Laurent said he didn't like action movies. Telling him the villain was very Shakespearian, if he wanted to give it a try. The movie had been entertaining. 

Damen was just... So very human. It felt good to be with him. It felt stimulating and calming at the same time.

And he never asked. 

He never asked anything once Laurent changed the topic. He didn't ask about Auguste or about his home or about whatever he was doing in this stinky appartment. He didn't pry, like he always waited for an open door. 

It had been a year now. Laurent felt safe. And sad. 

He missed his home. There was a part of him that wanted to bring Damen to the cemetary for him to meet his brother. There was a part of him that wanted to go back to fine pastries and street signs in his language and cold weather all year long.

But he couldn't do that. He had a thousand two hundred dollars set aside. That wouldn't pay a good lawyer, or not for long. And he could not go home if he knew home was where _he_ was.

The bus stopped again. He got down, with his bag on his shoulder. Work had been exhausting and one of his nails had broken and was painfully short, but he had to do some laundry tonight, because tomorrow was Friday and all the students would do their laundry during the week-end. He climbed up the stairs, hesitated at 207. On Thursdays, Damen usually went swimming after class.

He went home, put his food in his small freezer, went downstairs to put his clothes in the washer, climbed up again, tried to take care of his nail. He didn't like the dark circles looking back at him in the mirror. Once, he had been proud of being pretty.

There was a knock at the door fifteen minutes later. He almost sighed, because... He loved Damen. But he was tired too. But he went to open and smiled when he saw him smiling. His hair was still wet.

“I didn't know if you would be asleep yet,” Damen said softly. “Can I?” 

“Just come in,” said Laurent, because he didn't feel like kissing or being close to someone right now. “I'm going to sleep when my laundry's done.”

“Are you okay?”

“Tired.”

“Sorry."

Laurent actually relaxed a little, not at the ridiculous apology, but at the lack of annoyance. Damen didn't hold it against him, when he was rude or wanted his me-time or was tired. He felt himself uncurling a little from the ball of tired and angry he had been until now.

“Not your fault. How was swimming?” He asked, closing the door behind Damen as he removed his shoes, because Laurent had taught him that was what civilised people _did_. 

“Good. What about your day at work?”

“Horrid. Many customers. Many rude people. You'd think saying Hello and Thanks is physically painful to them.”

“Assholes,” Damen declared them without hesitation. “Spit in their food, babe.”

The last part was said on a joking tone. It surprised a laugh out of Laurent.

It kept surprising him. Everytime he was reluctant to let Damen in, because he was not feeling good and he did not want to see _people_. But everytime, seeing Damen helped.

“You know,” he said, sitting on his dirty couch and patting it to invite Damen to join him, “I realised in the bus it's been over a year since I'm here.”

“Already?” And after a pause, “Damn, when's our anniversary? I never took the time to note that. It was like, March? April? It has to be spring, I remember kissing you at Easter when I gave you chocolate.”

“Are you... being serious?”

There were fuzzy feelings in his stomach, like everytime Damen made their relationship into something official. They were part pleasants. Part scary, too. Damen didn't feel like a cage, but the idea of being someone's boyfriend was.

“We don't have to celebrate if you don't want to,” Damen hurried to say. “It's just -it's crazy, I didn't think it had been this long.”

They were both silent for an instant. Maybe Damen was thinking back to the previous year as well. Laurent was. He remembered Damen inviting him to go swimming with him, and he remembered summer and the authentic _plague_ of ants that had invaded his appartment and he remembered autumn and going to the exotic animals exposition with Damen and Nikandros and he remembered Christmas and the ridiculous pine branch in a boot that had served as their tree to put gifts under.

Just one year.

“Do you miss your home?” 

So maybe Damen was thinking a different way.

“This is my home now,” he replied automatically. Then, frowning, more softly, “But, yeah, a little.”

“Do you think you'll go back?”

“I can't yet.”

Damen frowned, looking ready to say something and then not saying it.

The silence was heavy and Laurent was looking for anything to break it. There was that part of him that wanted to tell Damen everything, that had wanted to tell him since the first time they had held hands. But it felt... Wrong. Damen didn't realise. Damen didn't even have the smallest _idea,_ he had realised with the passing months. Damen, despite everything _he_ had gone through, never seemed to understand evil and wrong and twisted.

“Maybe we can find something that reminds you of home, then,” Damen blurted out suddenly. “Like, uh, a Veretian restaurant? Or maybe a place for ballet. A studio? There has to be something like that in Akielos, I can't believe you're the only expatriate around. Like... If you can't go home, maybe you can feel a bit less homesick here.”

He was looking like it had taken him deep thoughts to get there, or maybe he was just considering possibilities, because he was frowning with a pensive look into the void. Like he was really putting all his mindpower to the project of making Laurent less homesick. _He_ had guessed Laurent was homesick. 

Because Damen was like that. Intense and loving and clever in the way you didn't expect him to be, underneath his brute outsides. He loved. He was loyal. He took care of his people. Nikandros had told Laurent those things when he had given him his version of the shovel talk. Laurent sometimes still forgot them. 

“I don't think that would be the same,” he said carefully, and watched his partner deflate.

Damen and he had never done more than this -sitting next to each other, hugging a little. One time, he had fallen asleep on Damen's shoulder and Damen had let him, with an arm around his waist. He had given a few hints of being ready for more, but Laurent had ignored them and he had never insisted. He had given very clear, accidental hints of being interested in more, but Laurent had said nothing and he had said nothing. 

He had so much with this man. This strange, lovely man. 

“Damen,” he asked, carefully. “Can I tell you something terrible about myself? About why I can't go home?”

 


	4. Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikandros deserved better than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last installment of the Freedom verse, last prompt of the Captive Prince Week 2017! "Disguise", with the long awaited and demanded fluff including all of them.

Nikandros deserved better than this.

Nikandros was cool. Nikandros should have spent Halloween with Damen at a cool party, with cool people, doing cool things.

Instead Nikandros was spending Halloween with Damen and Damen's boyfriend. _Trick-or-treating_.

“Come on,” Damen had said. “It will be fun.”

Nikandros had been resigned to Laurent for some time now. He had known from day one of the Veretian moving in their building that Damen would fall for that boy. Blond and delicate and sharp, he was definitely his type. Awkward, dignified, with no social skill at all, and yet so very self-confident. Laurent was going to become a part of his life a way or another.

Only, it was supposed to be a flirt. Like... College love. Damen would date him, and they would fight, and fuck, and break up eventually. And they would move on.

Well, Nikandros had misjudged. Two golden engagement rings later and years of relationship, and months of Damen being at Laurent's side as he was fighting his psycho of an uncle in court, and a little kid named Nicaise that was Laurent's cousin moving in with them and the three of them deciding to rent half of a duplex and becoming a _family_ , all of that later, Nikandros admitted it. He had not seen it coming.

But, well. Damen... Damen was happy. And Laurent, for all that he was a sort of cold little snake, cared for Damen. So, Nikandros was fine with that.

But Nicaise was a _piece of work_.

“Why are you wearing a girl costume, kid?” Nik asked as he found himself walking next to him.

“It's not a girl costume. I'm a boy and I'm wearing it. That makes it a boy costume.”

Nicaise argued like Laurent, like he detained the absolute truth and anyone defying that certainty was of the utmost stupidity. Basically, he was Laurent, but tinier, and with no reason to be tolerable. He was cute and he was absolutely irritating.  


For Halloween, the twelve years old had decided to go as a witch. He wore a dress that went down to his knees with stripped socks and a huge hat over his curls. 

“You're still wearing a skirt.”

“So does Damen. Are you saying Damen is dressed like a _girl_ too?”

Nikandros growned. Nicaise smiled at him triumphantly and then moved ahead hurriedly as they came in sight of another decorated home. He went knocking at the door confidently. Nikandros paused at the barrier, next to a big inflatable pumpkin. Damen and Laurent had stopped there as well; his friend had chosen, not so wisely, to go as a gladiator, which was flattering enough on him, but destroyed his arguments. Laurent had picked a musketeer costume, with a big feathered hat that would have looked ridiculous on anybody, except him, because life was unfair and Nikandros couldn't make fun of him when girls swooned at his feet. 

“This is so fun,” Damen said with a large smile. “Look at him go.”

“Mmh,” Laurent agreed with that small thing that Damen called his smile. “I didn't think he would enjoy it so much, but he's really giving it all he's got. This was a great idea, Nikandros.”

Nik had been sarcastic when he had suggested tonight, so he was hesitant to take praise. He hummed, mostly to confirm that Nicaise was doing his thing well. The woman answering at the door cooed over how cute Nicaise was and told him not to tell the others as she handed him _two_ chocolate bars.

“You two realise you're creating a monster?” Nikandros chipped in. “I'm not coming around while he has so much _sugar_ to consume, I'm warning you.”

“He's going to be reasonable, I'm sure. Right Nicaise?” 

The little witch gave Laurent a smirk that said he wouldn't. Then he smiled cheerfully and went to cross the street toward another decorated house, as Laurent and Damen exchanged a glance, and Nikandros was the only one close enough to realise and to see-

“Watch out!” 

He grabbed a skinny arm and pulled Nicaise back to the pavement abruptly. The kid cried in protest, one second before the sound of tires on asphalt covered it all. Nikandros' heart dropped in his chest as the car stopped precisely where Nicaise had been one moment earlier.

“Oh my God”, he heard Damen say.

“Hey, be careful”, a young man screamed from the passenger seat. There was loud music in the car and Nikandros heard laughters in the backseat. 

“Be _careful_?!” Laurent's voice vibrated, with either shock or rage, and he moved forward. “You could have _killed_ him! This is Halloween night, children are everywhere in the streets, you absolute, irresponsible bastard!”

“Hey, chill out! Are you his mom or something?” The driver called from where he was.

“You're going to _apologise_ ”, Damen growled, stepping to his fiance's side. 

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” Nikandros asked Nicaise, ignoring the heated exchange.

“I, uh, yes,” said Nicaise with a small voice. He looked frozen in place, and then he shuddered in terror. “You -you saved -me?”

He looked... So startled. That annoying little bastard, daring to look cute and shocked and gentle.

“I'm not letting anyone run you over with their car. If someone does that, it should be _me_ ,” he joked awkwardly. 

Nicaise didn't really laugh, looking at Nikandros' hand around his wrist. The car roared to life and drove away next to them, making them both startle and look up. Laurent looked livid. Damen looked angry.

“Bastards,” he said. “Driving drunk. I'm calling the police. Oh, god, Nicaise. Are you okay?” He fell to one knee, clearly ready to hug the tense boy.

“Nicaise, you have to look at both side of the streets before you cross,” Laurent said, his voice sounding anything but controlled. He didn't hug Nicaise or anything, but that wasn't Laurent's way of doing things. His entire body was tension and shock and relief. 

“I think Nicaise needs a few little minutes, yeah?” Nikandros interfered when the boy seemed to not know what to answer. “How about we sit down for a minute? And eat some candies? Or I could call a cab and we can all go home,” he added, looking at the boy in his arms.

“No, I want -I want more candies,” Nicaise said with a small voice.

“Sitting it is, then”, Nik decided, and crouched immediately to sit on the pavement and gently pull Nicaise closer to him. The boy sat next to him with no resistance. “Damen, call the cops.”

The woman who had given Nicaise two chocolate bars was out of her house, asking what had happened and sounding indignant. She asked if she could do anything to comfort the boy. Laurent politely told her no. 

“Breath, Nicaise,” Nikandros advised as they sat together.

“Yeah,” Nicaise said.

“You're all good?”

A nod. Then, with no further warning, the kid-shaped block of ice and sarcasm was leaning against him, resting his head on Nikandros' shoulder. His arms were holding on to his arm. 

Nikandros figured he could have picked a less appropriate costume than a superhero tonight. He did feel something warm in his chest when Laurent and Damen both looked back at them with equal disbelief. This was something amazing, their eyes said. Nikandros thought they didn't have to tell him. He hugged the kid back gently.

"You still suck, Uncle Nikandros."

Yep, that was him. Uncle Nikandros, for the cousin of his best friend's lover. Maybe he didn't deserve this, really, but he was fine with it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! =)


End file.
